


Chimera

by mizael



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Assassins & Hitmen, Happy Ending, M/M, Yearning, there is so much yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26111764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizael/pseuds/mizael
Summary: His hand shakes as it presses a wet cloth against Yuuya’s forehead, as he suffers through another bout of fever. Yuuto’s duty is not one he can escape, and there are other affairs in the world more important than the survival of the only son of Sakaki Yuushou. No matter if his smiles are bright, or if he clings to Yuuto like a lifeline, delirious, in the night, pleading with him to not go, please,not like the rest.The knife in his other hand is so heavy, like it is made of lead.He must remember this, he must remember this.Above all else.
Relationships: Sakaki Yuya/Yuto
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Chimera

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonbounded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbounded/gifts).



> title named after the song, [chimera](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bz69fDuM3OE)  
> (subs in captions!)

These are the first things Yuuto sees:

Yuuya resplendent against the garden, wrapped in layers and layers of white and red silk, the length of his hair held up by gold pins. The sun shines against the embroidery of his kimono, bringing the dragon along its fabric to life, and with a bird chittering on a pale finger, he almost looks like a painting framed by the autumn leaves, captured in the memories of time.

Red, red eyes, like the heralding of dawn. Yuuto feels as though he is watching a flame start in slow motion, with the way they flicker, and the first spark ignites Yuuya in a brilliant flash of orange against the backdrop of a sunset.

His throat, it is so dry. Hot, hot, and hotter, in a desert, with this flame.

Finally, Yuuya’s mouth moves. “Oh, are you the new attendant?”

And then it is all gone, like wisps of incense fading into the air, though the scent lingers along his nose and prick the edge of his senses. Maplewood, and cherry trees. All of it so flammable.

He turns his eyes to the ground and pushes his forehead against the wooden floorboards. _Yes, my lord_ goes unsaid.

Yuuya’s smile—it must have been radiant.

These are the things Yuuto must remember:

Yuuya is the sheltered son of a noble, kept in the confines of their manor due to his poor health and frail body. The whisperings of the court say, that Yuuya has been cursed by an oracle, that he lives in penance for the sins of his father, who had offended the Emperor deeply. He is kept here like a chirping bird in a gilded cage, where his days are spent in endless melancholy until the end of his life, longing for a glimpse of the world outside his pavilion walls.

And Yuuto is not on his side, and he should not care about the plight of the last heir to the Sakaki noble line.

_“Grow close to him, and poison his drink.”_

Yuuya, who does not know the machinations of a royal court, who has lived so peacefully at his estate, who has no knowledge of the world outside of it—he cannot see past the veneer of Yuuto’s lies, the way he steps around in the shadows and disappears into the night.

His pale hand, which reaches for Yuuto’s own, is so kind and gentle as he takes the teacup offered.

“Your tea is the one I enjoy the most,” says Yuuya, smiling, as his eyes crinkle at the corners and his pupils shine. “Thank you, Yuuto.”

And with both hands wrapped around the teacup, Yuuya takes a sip.

Through the tilt of his head, and the movement of his throat, Yuuto watches the silk of his kimono bend almost gracefully against the lines of his limbs. Where Yuuto only wears two layers of fabric, Yuuya wears eight, creating a cascade of color when the edge of his sleeve moves ever so slightly, exposing the naked column of his wrist.

Again, again. His mouth goes dry and his throat aches with a burning pain. His fingers curl into his skintight sleeves and he tears his eyes away quickly.

Yuuya finishes his tea and hands the cup back to Yuuto, who takes it in silence, as always.

“I wish you would speak,” he says, suddenly, as Yuuto is about to leave. “No one ever talks to me here.”

Yuuya is the son of a noble fallen from grace, cursed to live a life of solitude in this little manor away from the city. His enemies are numerous only for the surname he carries, and not because of what he has done.

The packet of poisoned powder presses painfully against his skin within the folds of his clothes, heavy.

Yuuto opens his mouth—

_”If we wipe out that blasted Sakaki line, the Emperor would favor us.”_

—and then closes it.

He must remember this, above all else.

These are the things he hears:

The servants mutter and gossip like a pack of crows, cawing and cooing at each other until the whispers of the house distort into its only truth.

Rumor: Yuuto is the fourth attendant that has served Sakaki Yuuya, the other three lost to the misfortunes of fate, cursed as Yuuya is by the oracle. His attendants must be as doomed as he is, when the scent of death trails their footsteps like a stray dog, when it wraps around Yuuya so lovingly in its embrace and infects all who draw near.

Rumor: the rest of the household must also bear the weight of this shame. Sakaki Yuushou committed honorable seppuku in the Emperor’s throne room, and while his stomach bled over the fine fabrics of his kimono, the executioner sliced him right across the throat. They say his head rolled and faced the Emperor as it stopped, and the royal diviner cursed this omen on sight.

Yuuto takes the packet of white powder from his robes, with his shaking hands. Beside him, a teapot spews steam from its mouth, the cup beside it empty and dry. It is a job that Yuuto must do, and has done before, for it is only his duty to listen to the whims of his masters, and kill where he is told.

Rumor: Yuuya is cursed with sickness for the misdeeds of his father, the weight of his sins heavy across his shoulders. If Yuuto does not take him, then surely the elements will.

The piece of paper is so flimsy in his fingers, when he presses his thumb into it, feeling the granules of powder move against his skin. One taste and Yuuto would keel over, dead for all the world. One taste and Yuuya would keel over, dead for all his enemies.

The only truth is this: Sakaki Yuuya is weak in the afternoon sun, when his skin burns in its rays, his body too delicate to endure the harshness of nature outside. Despite this, and Yuuto’s frequent protests, he stays in the garden anyway, attracting birds and wildlife like the advent of a goddess descending onto the earth.

“It is my only worth,” he would say, though Yuuto never asked. “The animals speak to me.”

At night, he coughs into the sheets of his futon and his body runs high with fever. Yuuto would stay by his side with a wet cloth and gentle hands, while Yuuya, delirious, would mumble utter nonsense under the skin of his fingers. His limbs would move up, no longer constrained by the layers of kimono he wears in the daytime, and kick and cry while Yuuto stayed, silent.

When the morning came, Yuuya would finally fall asleep, dreamless and peaceful, like the long hours before did not occur. In the dawning light, rays would peek through the squares of the shoji doors, highlighting Yuuya’s prone body in its glow.

His lips, pale, and his cheeks, flushed, like a dollmaker who forgot to paint the only semblance of life it could ever give to an inanimate object.

It is so harrowing, like this, imagining Yuuya sleeping for the rest of his life. Imagining that the only remnants of his smile and kindness for Yuuto would only exist in the memories that he would have to carry for the rest of his life.

That Yuuto would be the only person who would ever remember Yuuya, and his laughter in the gardens.

Another truth: Yuuto puts away the poison, for another day.

The nights, though—

_(“You cannot delay any longer. There is another job you must do after this.”_

_“I’m sorry, it is just, the household is wary against new people, and it’s hard for me to get as close as I’d want.”_

_“Then find another way to kill him.”_

_“... I will.”)_

His hand shakes as it presses a wet cloth against Yuuya’s forehead, as he suffers through another bout of fever. Yuuto’s duty is not one he can escape, and there are other affairs in the world more important than the survival of the only son of Sakaki Yuushou. No matter if his smiles are bright, or if he clings to Yuuto like a lifeline, delirious, in the night, pleading with him to not go, please, _not like the rest_.

The knife in his other hand is so heavy, like it is made of lead.

He must remember this, he must remember this.

Above all else.

These are the things Yuuto must forget:

The curve of Yuuya’s palm, the thinness of his wrist, the way his throat bobs as he swallows thickly in the summer heat. Even now, as Yuuto kneels and presses his forehead into the floorboards like their first meeting, he cannot stop thinking of the way his red hair and red eyes stood out against the red leaves of autumn. 

“I knew,” says Yuuya, after a long silence. The rustle of his kimono catches the edge of Yuuto’s ears. “I knew someone would come to kill me.”

His mouth is dry, again, and Yuuto dares not to move his face from the floor.

“The servants talk very loudly when they think I don’t hear,” he continues, sighing. “I knew someone would come to collect, just not when, or who. And I think… I was eager for them to do it quickly.”

A beat.

“... Why?” Yuuto dares to ask, to the floorboards.

“I didn’t, I—” hiccups Yuuya, suddenly, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to hear them talk about father like that. I didn’t want them to look at me like I was a curse. I know he did something bad, but I just—I didn’t want to live here for the rest of my life. It’s—It’s so _miserable,_ Yuuto. I wanted to die, I wanted to move on. If there’s no use for me here, if it’s better that I die, then—”

Yuuto looks up.

Like their first meeting, the sun sets a cascade behind Yuuya, coloring the sky orange with the backdrop of clouds. Yuuya’s face is flushed, as flushed as his fevers in the night, and his shoulders shake with the weight of his tears, as they fall down his face. He dirties the kimono sleeves with wet splotches as he tries to wipe them, but they keep falling, and the silk only grows heavier.

With his cheeks red, and his lips stuttering, and the water reflecting the light of his eyes—it is ironic, then, Yuuto thinks, that Yuuya looks more alive now than when he pulls his mouth into a radiant smile.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuto says, quicker than he can think. “I didn’t—I don’t think that’s correct.”

Yuuya looks up. “Wh-What?”

“The servants are still here, despite everything. They must love you. The animals too, keep coming back to you, because they love you. I, too…”

 _love you_.

The words stop in his throat, and Yuuto coughs into his hand.

“But I can’t stay,” he says, instead. “When my masters find out, I will be put to death.”

“Then… then I will die.”

“Yuuya—”

“No,” the sun catches the red of his hair, and Yuuto watches the flame he saw before ignite into a fire. Yuuya’s red eyes and his red hair, they burn in the light, and sear into Yuuto’s eyes. “I will die.”

His throat, dry again, cannot speak.

These are the last things Yuuto sees:

The procession is white as it moves out of the manor, carrying a body wrapped in a silk sheet. At the edge of the grounds, steps away from freedom, they lower it into the ground and bury it into the soil. Yuuto watches it all with distant eyes, as he stands next to the cluster of servants, to the last of the people of the Sakaki household with no heir left to serve.

They bite their lip and hold their tongues, for once. The monk at the head of the procession sings a low and solemn chant, with a wooden scroll in his hands that clicks at every beat. They bow their heads and listen.

At the end of it all, only Yuuto stands alone at the disturbed dirt of the buried body, and inhales.

“Yuuya…”

A voice answers him from the forest. “Are they gone now?”

Between the trees, Yuuya exists as a speck of bright green, dressed in the modest three layer kimono of a merchant. A red leaf falls in front of his face, and he swats it away airily.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Yuuto asks, when he gets closer. “With all this, I mean?”

Yuuya looks at the ground, but smiles. “I finally got to leave the manor, even if it has to be like this,” he drags a sandal through the dirt. “I’ve never been… outside.”

“What will you go by now?”

“I think Yuuya is still fine,” he tilts his head to the side. “But I wouldn’t know about a surname. What’s yours, Yuuto?”

“... I don’t have one,” he says. “Most commoners don’t.”

“Then just Yuuya would be fine!”

And in the forest, his laughter disappears into the trees. 

Yuuto, too, goes with them.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIN!!!  
> i give you this as an offering. take it.
> 
> some counterpartship set in... heian period japan? that's the one i chose when i started, but i don't think the period really matters in this. i just wanted assassin!yuuto set out to kill yuuya and then he falls in love. the drama! the suspense! 
> 
> believe me when i say i cut out a lot of stuff bc i didnt want this to be a(nother) 10k monster
> 
> please leave a comment <3


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